Betraying Logic
by nobodybuti
Summary: Falling in love, that meant betraying all I had ever believed in. But it was before Voldemort. Before Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Before he disappeared...before, he was all mine. And I was all his. Tom Riddle/Minerva McGonagall pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own HARRY POTTER, that belongs to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

I'd really appreciate it if you'd review...tell me what you think of the story. Enjoy!

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><p>One thing you should know about me is that I don't have many friends. I'm not popular at all. I don't know why, but it's just the way I've always known life. It's not that<p>

I'm depressed, or anything. I can't miss something I never had. For me, logic has always been my best friend. Logic and my brain have been my companions through all

the troubles I've had. And they've been good to me.

Hogwarts is amazing. Even though there are a million cruel students in this castle I call home, there are also a million places to hide from them. Now you understand how I

work, don't you? I'm serious. I don't joke. And I definitely don't trust my heart.

Transfiguration is my favorite class. Despite the fact that it's with Slytherin students and that half of the people in that classroom hate me due to the never ending praise

the Professor gives me, I enjoy it greatly. Anyways. On with the story.

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><p>On that faithful day, during that one Transfiguration class, is the day Tom Riddle first approached me. Tom Riddle is someone that I consider to be a dog. He has the looks,<p>

the brains, the popularity, and the female companions. If you asked me what I thought was the closest thing to perfect, I'd probably say Tom Riddle. Maurie Brown had

once told me that Tom Riddle had stolen the virginities of 4 girls when he was only in his fourth year at Hogwarts. I wouldn't believe these rumors if my brain didn't agree,

but unfortunately, logic rules out everything and I do think that he stole those things from the four girls.

The thing that shocked me the most from this encounter, was what he said to me. I had been working on transfiguring a stack of books into Cornish Pixies, which I then

froze with a freezing charm. Tom Riddle had snuck up so quietly that I didn't even know he was there until I looked up and saw his dark eyes boring into mine.

"Forgive me for saying this," He said, in that smooth voice that I had overheard so many times before, "but why are you in Gryffindor?"

"What do you mean? I don't understand." I replied. His slender fingers rested on my desk. I don't know why, but those fingers had always bothered me so much.

"I mean, you don't really seem like a Gryffindor. Not as talkative. Not as outgoing, and no offense; not as willing to put others in front of your own needs." Riddle said.

"Excuse me? How would you know that? If you're implying this from what you've observed without concrete evidence, then I'm sorry to say that you have no idea what

you're talking about." Riddle looked taken back. I guess most people don't have the guts to talk back to Riddle, but I don't have the social skills to know that.

"It's not an insult, McGonagall." That was all he said, before returning to his Slytherin friends—no, I wouldn't say friends—followers.

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><p>I thought this would just be a one-time encounter; except the next day, during lunch, while I was studying in the library, he came and approached me again.<p>

"Good day, McGonagall?" He asked me, sliding his books onto the table while taking a seat. I looked up, and said nothing.

"What do you want, Riddle?" I asked. He gave me a little smile. A smile that gave me a bizarre feeling in my stomach that I'd never felt before. My brain told me that it was bad…but it felt good.

"Just a question about Transfiguration."

"Trust me, Riddle. I don't know anymore about it than you do. I've seen your marks. They're incredible." I said, with a hint of jealousy in my voice. Even though I

exceeded Transfiguration greatly, Riddle managed to best me every time.

"No, I think I need your opinion for this." He said firmly.

So I agreed to help him. Riddle would come and join me every couple days, then every few days, and then it became so often that I would make sure to save a seat for

him when I went into the library for lunch every day. My heart wondered if I had made a friend. My brain told me no.

But I went with my heart, for the first time.


	2. Chapter 2

disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

Please review! Enjoy!(:

ALSO- this is not going to be a oneshot. haha.

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><p>"McGonagall!" I heard my name being called, and I looked back, but I couldn't make out who was calling my name in the dining hall crowded with students.<p>

Slowly but surely, Riddle's head bobbed into view. Even in the midst of all the chaos in the gigantic room, I could make out his figure, tall and dark.

As he got closer, I couldn't help but admire his sharp, aristocratically beautiful features. Wait—no—I don't admire physique. I admire intelligence, and I admire integrity and such things, but I have never consciously caught myself admiring beauty. Damn it,

Riddle. Get out of my head.

"Oh, er, Riddle." I greeted him awkwardly.

He put a hand on my arm and pulled me away from the crowd of students. My skin tingled, so slightly that I don't think I really noticed.

"Sorry. So I was wondering, about Transfiguration homework, and I thought we could go over it together, yeah?" He looked a bit less frightening when he was ruffling through his bag, searching for the sheets.

"Sorry for what?" I asked.

"Oh, did I say that?" He absentmindedly replied, continuing his search.

"Yeah, you said that. What are you sorry for?" I pressed on. He finally found a rumpled up piece of paper. He charmed it, and it immediately flattened out, clean and crisp.

"Damn it, McGonagall, just drop it." He said, annoyance leaking into his voice. "So—onto the library, now?"

I nodded sullenly and sulked my way to the library. Nobody ever tells me to _drop_ something. If I wanted to know, I should have the right to know, right? Damn _you_, Riddle. Even though I liked to believe that my dark thoughts were kept to myself, I saw that

Riddle was amused. I found him watching me as we sat down at an empty table, so I brightened my face to avoid any questions. Even though I was more direct with him than anyone else was, I was actually, completely terrified of him.

"Look at them. They're staring at us. Well—actually, me." He said, with an air of confidence that annoyed me, but I kept my eyes on my sheet of homework, even though I glanced back to where he was looking quickly. The Slytherin girls…Clara Vance, Veronica

Lestrange, Melissa Black…

"Question 1—you'd have to keep the wand at your own eye level and point down to the object. Question 2—" I was interrupted.

"What's that girl's name? Oh right, Clara Vance." He gave her a half-smile, which I bet gave her a bunch of butterflies in her stomach. I could hear a giggle coming from their direction.

"Dumb broad," he muttered, but kept an interested expression on his face as Clara and her friends came towards us.

"Oh, hello, Minerva. Didn't know you and Tom were associated. Anyways, Tom, I've been wondering for awhile, but would you like to come to the Yule Ball…with me?" Clara asked, while her friends clung to her sides.

"The foreign students haven't even arrived yet, though. And it's not for awhile…" Riddle replied, all the while keeping that stupid, irritating, condescending grin on his face. "But I'll think about it. Only because I'm not even sure I'm going…see, Professor

Slughorn gave me detention for a month or so, and I don't know if I'd be free by then…" Lies. "So yeah, but I'd love to if I could." And apparently Clara believed him.

"Oh, okay, think about it though! I knew a million other girls would ask you the minute it was announced, but anyways, see you around, Tom." She and her posse of friends giggled away.

"_Dumb_, broad!" Riddle repeated, letting out a humorless chuckle. He saw my expression. "What?"

"You shouldn't do that, Riddle. It's rude, demeaning, and utterly vulgar how you used her like that, for your own amusement."

He had a mock-serious look on his face as he stuttered, "Oh, ma'am, I'm so sorry, how can you ever forgive me now?"

"Screw you, Riddle." I snapped, grabbing my bag and leaving in a hurry. As I was left, he called out to me.

"You forgot your homework, ma'am." For a second I considered going back to retrieve it. But as I turned around, I saw that his other Slytherin followers had joined him again.

"Screw it." I muttered to myself. Who would even want to be friends with Riddle? Even if this was a one-time thing with me, which I definitely did not think it was, I'd seen how he had treated other students, girls, and even professors. And they were all

wrapped around his perfect little thumb. I'm glad I'm not.

At least I think I'm not.


	3. Chapter 3

__Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. All belongs to JK Rowling.

Please review ! Thank you so much for reviewing, (to my two reviewers haha) it means alot.

To : est-ce que tu peux parler en francais? hahah(:

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><p><em>List three potions that take less than 3 hours to brew.<em>

I can't believe this. I know the answer, but for some reason, my mind is just _refusing _to stay focused. This has never happened to me before. But then again, I've never really had a friend…let alone talked to many people. I don't know what this feeling is, but

I can't shake it loose. I let myself sneak a sideways glance at Riddle. Potions is the only other class I have with Slytherin other than Transfiguration. He's focused (unlike me) on his exam, his elbows on the desk with his fingers at his temples. I don't know

how long I was looking at him, but he looks up so suddenly that I find myself frozen. Part of me is telling me to just look away, but the other part just wants to melt into those dark, mysterious eyes…

And then I hear Professor Slughorn.

"Alright, tests in!" His voice breaks into my mind, reality forcing its way in. I glanced down at my blank paper. Blank as an undecorated Christmas tree. You've got to be _kidding _me.

The next thing I do is panic—because I'm Minerva McGonagall, one of the brightest witches out of all the students of Hogwarts, someone who has never missed more than one or two points on any test—because I just failed this test. 0/ 24, I'm sure. All

because of _Riddle. _I can feel my hand shaking as I hand the parchment in to Slughorn. He takes one look at my test parchment, and his face morphs from his normally friendly face to baffled, faster than you could say _Lumos_.

"Miss McGonagall," he started, voice coated with obvious disappointment, "I'd like to see you after class.

Embarrassed and humiliated, I took a seat by the door and awkwardly kept my gaze away from the departing students.

"_McGonagall_?" I heard them whisper, wondering what I did to be held back from leaving. I felt like a criminal put on trial with everyone I had ever known, judging me. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal, but really—for me, this is horrible. Terrifying. As Riddle

passes by, I just know that he's probably smirking; laughing inwardly, just because he's Riddle, and I'm McGonagall, but I keep my head down.

Once everyone is gone, Slughorn calls me over to his table. I lift up my head, and I realize that Thomas Crouch is also there. Thomas Crouch has an older brother, Barty Crouch, I think. He's a prefect with perfect marks and has a passion for studying that

surpasses even my own. In other words, he's the opposite of Thomas. Thomas is someone that devotes his life to quidditch, and quite frankly, he has an unpleasant I -don't-give-a-shit attitude.

"Well. You both know why you're here. Mister Crouch; I'm sure you're familiar with the routine. As for you, Miss McGonagall—ah, Mister Crouch, would you care to explain?" Slughorn asked.

Crouch sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Scores 70% to 80%, test corrections. Scores lower than 70%, test corrections and detention."

"After learning hours, I'd like it if you both could come by my classroom for about an hour or so. As for now, take this time to correct your mistakes."

Slughorn heaved himself up and walked to his office, muttering under his breath. Crouch and I took our seats, and after an awkward ten minutes, he spoke up, to my surprise.

"So what'd you get on your test?" He asked.

"0 out of 24." I said. What he did next surprised me even more. He let out a loud laugh—not unpleasant, not in a way that I felt that he was laughing at me, but in a way that he was laughing _with_ me. I cracked a little smile.

"What about you?"

"13 out of 24."

"Oh."

"What's question 15?" He asked me, picking up his parchment and taking a seat next to me. I glanced at it quickly.

_List three potions that take less than 3 hours to brew._

This time the answers came flooding to my head.

"Oh that's easy," I replied, and I wondered why before, I didn't know any of the answers. I was sure that it had to do with a certain someone called Tom Riddle, invading my mind.

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><p>During Transfiguration, as I was working on transfiguring a book with the few minutes left before class, I noticed that a pair of pale hands holding a sheet of paper were resting on my desk. Pale hands that had always caught my eye. Riddle.<p>

"I believe this belongs to you." He handed me the Transfiguration homework from the day before. I averted my eyes, in case something as embarrassing as what had happened in Potions occurred again.

"Yeah, thanks."

"You're still angry at me? I have nothing to apologize for, Minerva."

Minerva? Now, it's Minerva?

"Neither do I, Tom." I replied, lifting my head and giving him a cold look. He has this way of smiling, you know—that's so mocking, a sneer, almost, but it's a still smile, I guess. If that makes any sense.

"Don't call me that." His tone didn't match the look on his face. "Riddle I can take, but don't ever call me Tom."

"Then don't call me Minerva!" I retorted, annoyed.

"This goes way deeper than first names, McGonagall."

I watched as he walked back to his Slytherin followers, who were all staring at me with curious eyes. They were all watching me, as well as Riddle, so I cleared my throat and stared down at my homework, pretending to be distracted. But of course, I could

never focus on schoolwork. Not with him on my mind. I didn't understand what he had meant, and I was determined to find out.

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><p>.REVIEW. i mean you don't HAVE to. but please(:?<p> 


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